


All Consuming

by saltandlimes



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: And a creep, Blood, Hux is Not Nice, M/M, Murder Kink, Serial Killers, Somehow, but still in space, kylo ren is just terribly confused about everything, this could have been worse i'm sure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:56:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7510961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandlimes/pseuds/saltandlimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something odd is happening. Hux is disappearing, vanishing for the night sometimes when they are not on Finalizer. And Kylo, with his infinite curiosity, wants to know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Consuming

**Author's Note:**

> I have literally had this idea in the back of my head since February. And now it is finally done, thank goodness.

“Diplomacy, Ren. That's what it is.” They're in the lounge, late into third shift. Hux has one leg crossed over, is leaning back, eyes fixed on Kylo's face. And it's strange, these meetings they've started. But Hux insisted, those weeks ago when Kylo returned from training with Snoke, cleansed, ready to begin again. Hux, face earnest, eyes bright, had cornered him. _We need to work together this time._

And Hux was right. Kylo knows that, knows it now, hard earned as that knowledge is. Can see the echo of their great failure in Hux's eyes every time someone mentions weapons testing, talking of new military actions. They have to do better this time. Hux is still talking, though, and Kylo refocuses on him, on the way all Hux's considerable focus is centered on him. 

“...seize the opportunity. We can't let them forget what the First Order is capable of.” And that actually pulls a laugh from Kylo's throat, unbidden, unexpected. 

“That's not diplomacy, Hux. That's intimidation.” Hux smiles at him, that slow, sure smile that Kylo has only recently learned exists at all. 

“Don't you know, Kylo? They're one and the same.”

***

And so, here they are, planet after planet, diplomatic mission after diplomatic mission. Night after night spent in strange palaces, senate halls, quarters far too rich by half. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Kylo notices something strange. It doesn't happen every night they're off the ship, not every time they stay on some backwater planet, Hux cajoling and threatening, bringing it into the fold. But it happens often enough that it's a pattern. 

Hux disappears. 

It's for a few hours at the least, an entire night at most. He slips off, unnoticed, unguarded. Out of uniform, with a satchel slung over one shoulder, bulging, strange lumps beneath nondescript black. At first Kylo just watches, waits for Hux to reappear. Hux, controlled, purposeful Hux, he must have a reason for this, a command from the Supreme Leader he's fulfilling. 

It's certain. 

And yet, as they visit planet after planet, meet with diplomat after diplomat, Kylo wonders. 

Because there never seems to be any results. Never a sign that Hux is doing something that affects their mission. Never a hint of anything useful about Hux's midnight excursions. 

And so Kylo starts to have other ideas. 

Perhaps Hux goes out to bars. Gambles the night away with cheap beer and easy company. Or perhaps he finds a fight club, bets on twi'leks and togruta, beautiful bodies locked in combat. Or, and this is the thought that shows up most often, maybe he finds those shops that any diligent person can seek out on any planet in the galaxy, goes inside, points to one portrait or another, finds a room. Perhaps he finds a pretty face to fuck, somewhere outside a bar. 

He does come back looking satisfied. 

And Kylo has never been very good at letting things alone. He has never learned the knack for ignoring those things that simple _do not concern him._ (Leia's voice in his head, and he doesn't want to listen.)

So, three weeks after the first time he notices Hux sneaking out, he follows. Leaves behind robes and cowl and hood, slips into his training gear, waits. While he waits, he wonders. He still isn't quite sure why Hux finds his way out of whatever absurd accommodation they've been given some nights and not others. On some planets and not others. There seems to be no reason to it. It cannot be stress. Today's negotiations went well. The King, truly supreme here, no senate, no court, had been affable. Clapping Kylo on the shoulder, shaking hands with Hux, smiling, willing. 

It can't be stress.

But it happens all the same. He waits, watching from the shadows, as Hux slips out of the window in the rooms he's been given, vaults over the low wall that rings the palace. And Kylo realized weeks ago that Hux must have some sort of arrangement with the stormtroopers he brings on these missions, would never be able to go out unguarded otherwise. But he does, and he's walking quietly towards the side gate out from the palace grounds, each step bouncing a little. 

He always looks like this, jittery and anticipatory, at least when he goes out at night.

Then he's sliding out the gate and into the upper city, the rich houses and restaurants that circle the palace, the few government buildings not on the palace grounds. And Kylo follows, a wraith in the shadows. 

Hux doesn't stay in the upper city, and Kylo can't decided if he's surprised or not. For all Hux's pretensions, there is nothing that can truly strip his origins from him. Nothing that can wipe away thirty years of the Outer Rim, exile, the military. Just like his accent, marking him as other, marking him as an outsider, the unease with the rich, the powerful, it remains. So in the end, it is not a shock when Hux slips through the gates into the lower city, turns off down an alley leading down, down. 

Kylo follows. Follows as Hux makes his winding way though streets almost silent this late at night. Stalks after Hux as Hux goes deeper and deeper, finally in the part of the city where filth sits on the streets in heaps, where water drips unseen, just on the edge of hearing. Where there is nothing clean, or precise, or ordered. 

It's an odd contrast, watching Hux, with his stiff back, measured steps, his chin held high, as he stalks through this cesspool. And Kylo cannot help but draw a little closer, shadow him a little more tightly. 

Then, without warning, Hux turns into a building, niggling open a heavy, solid door. Kylo thinks for a moment about following, but decides against it. He has no idea what is on the other side of that door, doesn't want to tip his hand if it's some tiny room, some place he cannot hide from Hux's prying eyes.

So he waits. 

But it's not long, not long at at. Hux is coming out, a tall, pretty man trailing after him. Kylo smirks to himself. He thinks he knows what's happening now. And he could go back, curiosity satisfied, but he decides not to. There's always a chance that this isn't what it looks like, and he wants answers, not assumptions. 

So he slips down the alley after them as the man leads Hux, looking over his shoulder every so often to make sure Hux is still following. Two turns away, and they're in front of a building that advertizes itself as “The Lodging Hole, accommodations for all sentients.” The pair slips inside. And even from here, Kylo can feel Hux's excitement, the other man's weariness. Can feel Hux almost vibrating in the Force, anticipation arching off him like lightning. 

He tracks them inside with the Force, as they finally come to a stop on the second floor, wonderfully, luckily close to a tree. And he climbs up – _don't think of Endor, of Yavin, of all those trees you climbed_ – and settles himself where he can just see into the room, Force enhanced eyes piercing through the dark. 

At first nothing interesting happens. The man takes off his clothes. Hux keeps on his. They kiss for a moment, but Hux seems uninterested, pushes the other man down on the bed. Pulls something out of his satchel. Kylo can't quite make out what it is, but then Hux is pushing the man's arms back, clamping his wrists to the bed frame. Just like Hux to be obsessed with control, even here. 

The flash of the knife almost makes Kylo fall from his perch, topple to the ground a story below him. 

And the man writhes on the bed, shocked gasp audible even outside the window. Hux looks like he's talking, mouth gaping wide in a smirk. And the man on the bed nods, agreement flooding his face. But then.... but then Hux is kneeling on the bed, and dragging the knife along the man's chest. 

It's not a shallow cut. 

No, the only thing that hushes the man's bitter scream is the hand Hux has clamped over his mouth, muffling sound, fear, horror. And there's blood spattering upward, flinging itself across Hux's face. The man writhes underneath him, trapped between Hux spread legs and Hux's fingers clamped over his mouth, pinching at his nose. 

The knife rises up again, and Kylo watches, fascinated, shocked, disbelieving, as Hux slides it between two of the man's ribs, pulls it out. Kylo can imagine the sucking noise, the sound of skin, muscle, flesh parting under the blade. 

Hux is smiling. 

He's grinning, whispering something far too quietly for Kylo to catch, especially over the pained whimpers Hux's hand can't quite contain. And Hux has dropped the knife, is running a careful hand through the man's hair, petting, stroking. Then wrenching the man's head back, a sharp tug so hard that he pulls away a fistful of hair. 

He tosses it aside, moves down the man's body just a little. Hux is straddling the man's thighs now, drawing something on his stomach with the point of the knife. Kylo can't see what it is. It doesn't really matter though. What matters is Hux's laugh, echoing carefree out the window. Hux's smile, too caring by half. The tiny hitches of his hips against the man's thighs. 

Kylo watches for hours. 

As Hux takes the man apart, he watches. As sinew detaches, bones break, fingernails are ripped from the beds. As Hux licks at the man's bluing lips, bites a little at them. Watches when Hux finally, finally slides the knife across the man's throat, as blood spurts up to coat Hux's face, his lips, his pretty hair. And then Hux scoots down the bed. 

And this is the moment that Kylo was expecting hours and far less blood ago. Because Hux is pushing down his soft civilian pants, just far enough that his cock bobs free. He's leaning forward, one hand buried inside the deep cut across the dead man's stomach, holding himself up on shattered organs and torn muscles. The other hand works over his cock, fast, furious. Kylo can see him panting, can see his stomach clenching, tight, needy. 

Kylo's breathing speeds up. And there's a strange feeling in the back of his ribs, something fluttering, tight, beating at him. 

Inside the room, the room whose window he's perched outside, staring in, Hux has pulled the dead man's abdomen farther apart, still has a hand buried inside it as he tugs twisting strokes up his dick. And Kylo wonders if this is always how it goes, Hux buried inside a body, stroking himself off with quick jerks of his hand. 

Kylo should be sick. 

He knows it. Should be running in terror, running back to the Supreme Leader, insisting that Hux be removed from command. Locking Hux somewhere away. Far away. 

But he knows something else as well. 

He won't do any of those things. As Hux throws back his head, neck stretched long and graceful, throat working as he swallows, hips jerking forward, Kylo is certain about it. No, he'll stay here, watch as Hux runs fingers through dead intestines, strokes himself off. 

And then Hux is coming, and Kylo want to moan at the sight, the image of Hux with his cock pulsing in his hand, but he doesn't. No, he slides down the tree, plants his feet back on the ground. He already knows what happens next. Hux will clean up, make his way back to the palace. They will successfully complete their negotiations. No one will ever ask what happened here.

No one will ever know. 

***

Kylo has a very short lived flirtation with the notion that Hux does not do this regularly. That his excursions when they are off of Finalizer do not all lead to a blood spattered room, to come spent in the gutted belly of a corpse. 

A very short lived idea, indeed. 

Because he keeps following Hux. And every time it is the same. Every time, Hux gathers up some man, some prostitute, Kylo thinks. They go back to a room. Thinks seem normal, alright, ok. Hux kisses the other man. And then there's the flash of a knife, the spill of bright blood. A throat slit. A ribcage cracked wide. 

Always the same.

And Kylo still doesn't know why. He still isn't sure why some missions pass entirely free of midnight excursions, and why some have three deaths, three bodies lying, rotting, somewhere in a cheap hotel. 

There is no reason behind it. 

None that he can see, at least. 

And he has spent hours thinking about it. 

And so, tonight, tonight he is going to change things. 

He follows Hux, just as he always does. Watches as Hux picks up a pretty man at the side of the street, leads him to a room. Watches, through the window, concealed behind a pillar, as Hux maneuvers the man onto the sheets. Waits. And then, when Hux has slit the man's throat, is about to tug out his cock, Kylo bursts in. 

Hux groans, low, deep, frustrated. 

“I don't suppose you'd believe me if I told you he was a traitor?” And it wouldn't even stand up if he really was. Because this is not how you deal with traitors. Hux is drenched in blood, has a bit of something clinging to his hair where he must have run an ill considered hand through it. But Kylo almost lets him have the fiction.

Almost. 

“No. Probably not.” Hux answers his own question, absently wipes one stained hand on the mattress. “What do you want, Ren?” And his voice is calm, steady. But Kylo can feel the desperation rolling off of him, the annoyance. Because Kylo has interrupted the very thing Hux wants most, and Hux is aching for it, need so bad that it fills his throat, presses through Kylo even at secondhand. 

“Why?” and he can't spit out any more of his questions now. Not being in a room with Hux, with one of his little toys. But this one, this one he needs an answer to. 

“Because of you.”

***

It's only once they're safely back on Finalizer that Hux is wiling to fully explain. And by that point, Kylo is practically buzzing with the need to know. It's been a whole day. A whole full cycle of agony, waiting to find out what Hux meant. To learn the answer to his questions. 

But then Hux pulls him aside, hand tight around Kylo's bicep. Breath a hot pant as he steers Kylo down the corridor, tugs him inside a door. And it takes a moment before Kylo realizes they're in Hux's quarters, that the couch in the corner is the same as the couch in his own room. 

And Hux pulls him over to it, hand still around Kylo's arm. Then they're sitting, and Hux is staring at him with all that indomitable focus.

“You have questions for me, Ren?” And his voice is clipped, as though this were any other day, any other session coordinating their work. 

Perhaps it is. 

“Just...” and he snaps, starts forward to stare into Hux's eyes. “What the fuck, Hux. What are you doing?” It's all spilling out, bubbling out of him in a torrent, a flood. “Those people. You're killing those fucking people. Why?” His voice is high, desperate. 

“Because people touch you.” And it's incomprehensible. Nonsense words. Kylo wonders what that means, what Hux is trying to tell him. And Hux must see his confusion. 

“Kylo...” He sighs, leans closer, edges sideways until they're almost touching. “They... it's not their right. _I_ saved you. _I rescued you._ And then these people, stupid petty kings, senators gorged on the riches of their peoples, they put a hand on you. They try to garner your favor with a soft touch. And it all just comes up in me. And I have to get rid of it somewhere.”

Kylo shakes his head, confused, stunned. 

“Kylo. Kylo...” Hux leans in, a thin hand palming over Kylo's thigh. “Kylo, I love you.” 

And Kylo rears back, stars away from Hux searching hands. Thinks for a moment about where those hands have been, buried in so many bodies, rubbing over so many bits of intestine, shards of broken bone. And Hux is staring at him, looking as though he expects Kylo to respond in kind, a strange flame flickering behind his eyes. But Kylo can't. He just can't.

“No. No you don't.” And for a moment he thinks this is the end. That the knife will be slashing across his throat before he has a chance to beg, that Hux will walk out, drenched in his blood. But instead, instead Hux laughs.

“Kylo, do you even know what love is?” And Kylo flushes. Because... because... does he? Does he have any idea? Has anyone ever loved him before? And Hux is edging closer again, and there is no more couch left, and Kylo refuses to fall off, to topple to the floor. So he holds his ground as Hux advances. 

“I knew, from the moment I dragged you out of that forest. I knew. Because love is caring, aching. Love it wanting to save the other person from harm, to protect them from the horrors of the world. To give them everything. Love is all consuming, vanquishing, conquering. And Kylo,” Hux's voice goes soft, “Kylo, that's how I feel about you. And when I see those petty people touch you, even for a second, it ties me up inside. And I have to fix it.”

And Kylo wonders.

Is this love?

Is love selfless devotion?

He thinks so. 

And what else is this?

He nods, slow and steady, and Hux smiles at him. 

“I don't... I don't think anyone has ever...” and he thinks back, rifles through Ben's memories. But none of them match up. “But... how... why those men?” Hux shrugs. 

“No one will miss them.”

And that's a good enough reason. 

Good enough, because someone finally, finally loves him. 

***

And the next time, the next time he goes with Hux. 

They've been in negotiations all day, and this time, now that he's looking for it, he catches Hux's grimace as an old industrial factor thumps him hard on the back, won't stop clenching at Kylo's forearm. Now that he's staring into those eyes regularly, he can see the flare of frustration, the annoyance that passes across Hux's face. The moment of pure rage. 

And he knows that this is the night. 

Hux leads him away from the palace with measured, even steps. Collects a new victim with the same assurance. 

And then they're in a rented room, the man laid out, cuffed, gagged before them. 

And Hux turns to Kylo, smiles. 

“Do you want to try?” Kylo's stomach turns. But he takes too steps forward, closer to where the man writhes on the bed. 

“I thought you needed to do this. I thought... thought you needed to push everything away into these men, your frustration, your anger.” And Hux lets out another of his sharp, glass-clear laughs. 

“I need you. I need them to know that you're mine. I need everything,” he's so close now, breathing in the air inches from Kylo's lips. Panting. 

Love.

That's what Hux said. 

Kylo could finally have love. 

It's hardly a choice when he stretches trembling fingers out, wraps them around Hux's narrow waist. 

“I need you too.” It's a whispered admission. A momentary remembrance, a fleeting field of white and collapsing trees shared between them. 

“No one will touch you again. I promise. No one will hurt you like that again.” And Kylo nods. Hux is right. Hux is always right. 

And then there's a bite at his lip, and _oh_ he's kissing Hux. And it's better than he ever imagined, Hux's tongue sliding along his, caressing it. Sucking one of Kylo's lips between his. Slipping those dexterous fingers around Kylo's ass to claw into it, to draw Kylo closer. 

“We'll have so many of them, Kylo.” Hux murmurs. “Anyone who tries to destroy us. Anyone who touches you. Anyone at all. We'll have them all.” And then he's pulling Kylo over to the bed, flipping the knife around so the hilt faces Kylo.

“You make the first cut. I want to see you do it.” And Kylo takes a deep gasping breath, steals himself. 

The ribs crack under the pressure of his hand. 

The spinal column stays mainly intact. 

But that's all. 

And Kylo has never felt such a rush, not from the hundreds he'd killed, not from anything. Behind him Hux is breathing hard, panting as Kylo tears apart this man they have brought. 

“Again,” Hux orders, and Kylo raises the knife once more, imagines what it would feel like ripping through muscle, fat, flesh. Wonders if anyone really knows. Slices down and watches blood spill bright across the bed. And Hux paints fingers in it, draws nonsense patterns. 

“Do you know the most important cut, Kylo?” Kylo nods. The slash across the throat. The killing stroke. Hux snickers. 

“Oh, Kylo. That's just a moment of mercy. They'll die no matter what. But the most important is the incision in the abdomen.” And he's got a hand scrabbling at the front of Kylo's pants as he speaks, but Kylo doesn't mind. “That way you can find whatever you want, can wrap your hands around it, can get yourself off with your hands buried inside one of them.” And he slides a single finger inside the narrow wound Kylo has just left on the man's body, fucks the finger in and out of it. Fucks the wound with his hand like he'd fuck something with a cock.

“Look at this. Look at me, Kylo. Look at what we can do together.” And Kylo feels too big to his skin, feels frantic, and too calm. And Hux pulls his finger free with a thick sucking noise, reaches out to him. “Come closer, Kylo. Come close to me, baby. Darling.” And he reaches up, traces fingers along Kylo's cheekbone. 

“You're doing so well. And we're so strong together. I knew it would be like this. From the moment I rescued you, I knew.” He thumbs a finger across Kylo's mouth. Sticky. “Don't worry. I'll take care of you. I'll teach you. Would you like that?” And Kylo is wiped clean, feels empty, hollow inside. Needs something to fill him up. To replace whatever is missing.  
“Yes. Yes please.” And he know that means more of this, more lives snuffed out by searching fingers and questing tongues, but Hux smiles at him, And Kylo doesn't care.

And as Hux slashes the man's stomach open, reaches inside, as Kylo slits his throat, Hux's words echo in his head. _Love. Love. I love you._

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [@saltandlimes](http://saltandlimes.tumblr.com/)


End file.
